


wasted words

by anotherenby



Series: tommy's beloved au [3]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dead Wilbur Soot, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Lonely TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Manipulative Relationship, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Mild hurt, dreams a prick, exile arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherenby/pseuds/anotherenby
Summary: two years in exile. tommy should have learned his lesson by now.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: tommy's beloved au [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165418
Comments: 4
Kudos: 109





	wasted words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this reminded me a lot of my warrior cat fanfic days.
> 
> anyways this is just one story apart of my au! for first time readers: tommy is a magma cube hybrid who's older brother wilbur raised him better than phil ever did (bc bad dadza cures the soul) and techno is technically just a family friend.
> 
> cw for non-graphic animal death and mentions of gore.

the forest was quiet in the morning. the soft song of birds or the occasional passing rabbit in the undergrowth was all that filled the air. a gentle breeze swept through the trees, causing the branches to rattle then drop.

tommy made his way precariously through the woods, his usually hyperactive tail trailing behind him, still and unmoving. in his hands was a crudely crafted bow, along with a hitched arrow that he scavenged off of a skeleton corpse. he wore no shoes and stepped with a delicate touch, as to not disturb the calmness of the area.

the young boy looked savage in a way, nowhere near the exhilarating, happy-go-lucky boy that once resided in l’manberg. now his once prized shirt was nothing more than a tattered tank top, slightly cropped from months of growth, and his pants were tattered and torn just below the knees. his once striking blonde hair was now pulled into a low ponytail, greasy with the lack of soap. his hands and feet were dotted with calluses and scars alike.

of course, tommy traded with the villagers in the nearby town, but his wealth was near zero and he preferred to keep clothes for colder times than for just everyday wear.

all of the animals with a sensitive nose had scented him from miles away, but he was hoping to find a more inattentive animal to take home.

the gentle grazing of a nearby sheep would have flown right over a normal hunter’s head. however, tommy was not normal, as not only had his hybrid ears learned to pick up even the smallest croak of a frog from afar but his hunting skills had developed and sharpened over the endless months.

he caught sight of the wooly creature, her fur a soft gray color that easily contrasted against the lush forestry. he guessed that the ewe had wandered too far from her flock and eventually got lost. by the way she had seemed unnerved and completely careless, tommy almost assumed that she might have belonged to the local village. no wild sheep would be so happy to graze out in the open.

a part of him felt bad for having to take the life of such a carefree creature, but hunger pains reminded him of his true goal being out here: to sustain whatever life he had left in him.

with the string pulled back and his hand steady, tommy released a quiet breath of air, then he let go.

the sheep went down with one shot, which is what tommy had been hoping for. there was no use in keeping the animal suffering. at least she was unsuspecting in her last few moments.

he approached the still-warm corpse, a hint of annoyance crossing over him as he remembered that he would have to drag the body back without damaging or dirtying it too much.

he secured his bow on his back then took out the arrow from the sheep’s body. he wiped the gore on his mangled pant leg, grimacing slightly.

he decided he would forage on his way back home to balance his diet.

with a glance at his compass (the ‘ _ your tubbo’ _ that was once delicately engrained was now a mess of criss-crossed scratches from tommy’s pocket knife), he took off with the sheep.

tommy’s exile had lasted a lot longer than he had ever expected. he had lost track of time a long time ago, having decided that survival was more important than remembering which day was friday.

(he didn’t know the exact amount of days he spent in logsted, but he knew that he first arrived in late spring, had lasted through one excruciating winter, and it was now late fall all over again).

tommy first felt dread. he learned to speak only when spoken too. he was tired, exhausted, and for the longest time tommy had felt like jumping in the vast expanse of lava in the nether. of course he would survive the fall, but he never knew where he would go afterward. no where in the overworld was safe from the trek of his fellow essempi members. he could live out his days in the nether, but he knew that that life would never be fulfilling for someone who lived his whole life in the overworld.

he stopped to check his compass as he spotted a bush crowded with berries. of course they weren’t the best looking batch he had seen, as with each step winter took it took a chunk of breathing life with it. tommy knew that the berries were edible after months of experience (as well as many uncomfortable, sick nights he had if he ate the wrong type), but he couldn’t help but recount the short rhyme that wilbur had taught him as a child to distinguish which berries were healthy or not.

luckily, tommy's life out in exile wasn’t completely new to him. living in a small cottage in the woods with his older brother, dad, and his dad’s protege as a child taught him many valuable lessons. 

it taught him simple domestic tasks like learning how to keep his home clean, how to cook dinner for himself every night, how to take care of his brother through long nights, etc.

(he never did any of these anymore but he reasoned that it was because he had more important things to do).

(he really didn’t).

he also learnt how to handle a sword, how to notch an arrow, how to bandage a simple wound, how to conserve. the forest did that to you.

he finished picking the berries, placing them in a small pouch attached to his hip, then set off again. 

the beginning of his exile was very bittersweet. he lost his best friend, but at least he had his brother, albeit a little… discorporated, and his newly acquired friend, dream.

wil, or ghostbur as others called him (ghost let tommy call him wil sometimes), stayed for as long as possible. tommy knew that his inner turmoil would eventually lead him to forget his younger brother, to the point where tommy never let ghost out of his sight for days on end. it lead to the younger being extremely exhausted and dehydrated. ghost slipped out one afternoon when tommy wasn’t looking though, disappearing into a foggy night.

dream had come back a week later with the terrible news of ghost’s death.

(how a soul could die twice? tom would never know nor would he spend too much time thinking about it).

luckily, tommy had spent enough time mourning his brother that he was able to shrug off the ghost’s disappearance easily.

(november sixteenth was a date forever branded into his mind. the day his brother died, his real brother, not the mocking shell of his once great leader).

_ it’s fine, _ tommy would tell himself late at night when the edges of his eyes would grow heavy with unshed tears.  _ everything will be fine _ .

tommy forgot many people’s faces after a while too. fundy was the first to go, niki and jack following close behind. it wasn’t their fault, he had just known them for the shortest. eret, schlatt, and quackity haunted him a little longer, but eventually they too faded. 

tubbo, phil, and techno stayed steady though. maybe it was because they were the ones dream kept him most updated about, even sharing a photograph when he was exceptional, but they stayed the longest. 

but that first winter, when tommy was confined to his small tent in an attempt to stay warm, they too dulled, eventually dissolving along with the endless flurry that had plagued logsted. tommy had made sure that this year he would prepare himself for winter, not letting anything else slip his memory.

wilbur, however, wilbur stayed. it was the least the boy could do, after everything wil had done for him, even manifesting himself after death just to meet another ugly fate. tommy hated to dishonor his brother by forgetting his face. he didn’t feel as much remorse when he forgot phil and techno, they had, in fact, left the two behind when they were just children. phil had also taken wil away from tommy without even a spare thought. tommy would never forgive him for doing something so vile and horrid.

(tommy also couldn’t bring himself to forget his brother’s smile. or the way he looked when he was working on one of his original songs. or the way wil would soothe him back into slumber when he would have night terrors. there were many things he wished never to forget about his brother).

tommy finally broke the treeline, his muscles aching and his bare feet begging to take a rest. the tent flapped in the distance, on top of the small hill that broke the grassland from the soft beach. he viewed the small torches and the plain dirt path that he had created at the beginning of his stay. as he got closer he could also see the small wooden area that ghost had built all those months ago. it had long since been abandoned after ghost had left, the only occupant being the plump mushroom henry cow that provided tommy with meals whenever he got too tired to go out and hunt.

he also realized, with alarm, that his music disc was playing. he picked up the pace, settling the corpse on the outskirts of his tent. he gripped his amateur stone sword (he had long since drained the area of its natural resources and learned to live with just the basic necessities along with relying heavily on bow and arrow), taking a tentative step forward. he creeped his way around the tent, tommy trying his best to battle down the panic that threatened to spill out.

that’s when he saw it: the simple white mask lying face down in the grass. tommy’s shoulders dropped as he stepped out from his cover, making eye contact with the man that sat criss-crossed on the grass floor in front of the jukebox. the pleasant, yet slightly eerie, tune of chirp developing around the two.

“tommy,” dream greeted simply. tommy smiled as he saw that dream was in his human form, which was only a form he showed off to close friends. he always made sure to drop his menacing, all-seeing admin act whenever he was around the younger.

tommy rose his hand in his own greeting. a storm started in his stomach, a mix of happiness, fear, and joy drowning out his feelings.

“sorry it took me so long to visit,” dream said, looking back down at the jukebox, breaking eye contact.

“‘s okay,” tommy muttered as he dropped onto his knees in front of the jukebox, closing his eyes. the two remained quiet as they waited for the song to end.

once silence had taken over again, tommy opened his eyes, deciding to leave the disc in the player. there wasn’t anyone or anything around to sabotage it, anyways.

the younger waved the green-ladden admin over to where he dropped the sheep. when tommy crouched to pick it up again, dream also crouched down to help. tommy noted that the older had slid his mask back on, the uncanny smiley face made tommy suppress the urge to shiver.

the two ended up sitting at the edge of the mountain by mushroom henry’s abode, taking shelter in the mountain's shade.

tommy spent his time precisely shearing the sheep’s wool, deciding that it would be a waste. dream sat next to the boy, giving tommy his usual updates. nothing interesting really happened, since it would usually be a week since the last time tommy would see dream. not much happens in a week, tommy learned quickly. this week was more of the same: ranboo announcing that he would run for president in the upcoming election, some more politics in l’manberg, and his weekly lecture about how dangerous techno had become.

tommy had heard the same story many times over.

the two friends shared the freshly plucked berries, dream pushing in a compliment every once in a while.

tommy couldn’t help but grin. even if everyone else had left him (or was taken from him), at least he still had dream.

by the time night had fallen, the corpse had transitioned to a couple chunks of meat that would be salted and stored for the days to come and the pouch of berries had been completely depleted. 

“hey, tommy, before i go.”

the younger’s heart dropped. he had been hoping that the admin had forgotten.

“of course, dream,” tommy sighed as he made his way to his storage area. it was already bare bones as it was, but dream always found something he wanted.

he eventually found himself handing over a few stacks of logs (these had taken days for tommy to harvest), a couple of his spare arrows, and a handful of gold nuggets from his already dim supply of mined resources.

tommy found himself in front of the nether portal, offering his goodbyes to the admin.

“thank you, tommy, you’re donations will be very much appreciated in the greater dream essempi,” dream hummed his gratitude as he nodded his head towards the younger.

tommy knew, deep down, that his weekly donations were too measly to really mean anything, but he liked feeling acknowledged, so he never questioned dream about it.

“of course, what are friends for.”

tommy could almost feel dream beaming underneath his mask. “‘til next week.”

“‘til next week.”

then he was gone.

tommy yawned, deciding that would be a good place to put the day on hold.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter:]](https://twitter.com/plutosaysh1)


End file.
